


Vive El Momento

by facade



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Based on Personal Experience(s) That Are Not the Creators, Boys Kissing Boys, College Radio DeeJay, Dorms, First Kiss, Friends w/ Benefits, Lyrics in title and summary // Pura Vida by Don Omar, M/M, Platonic-Sexual Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 05:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3237380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>((Y lo que pase mañana... Déjalo venir))</p><p>He tells himself that he doesn’t feel anything when he’s looking into those eyes ....but he tells himself that he feels a lot of things when he feels nothing in the same way that he tells himself that he feels a lot of nothings when he feels a lot of somethings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vive El Momento

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OurDeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurDeal/gifts).



> ...because I am a Cancer, because the person I wrote this for is a Cancer, and because Lionel Messi is a Cancer, I wrote him with something reminiscent of our personalities so there's that. 
> 
> Also, the feelings involved in falling for a person have been greatly exaggerated and romanticized. I'm just going to leave this here.

A flick of the switch and the room falls to silence, his breathing and his heart rate stills back to a slow and steady rhythmic hum, and the world suddenly seems dull and lifeless again. Within a single hour he has traveled hundreds of miles with multiple people, he has been invited into countless homes and into the dorms of hundreds of students, has spoken to hundreds of people with ease; he’ll do the same next week at the same time, he’ll talk to some of the same people but he’ll speak to some new ones, too. He’ll travel for miles with strangers, with friends carelessly, never once stopping to think of where he may end up....

A hand threads through a mess of hair and the sound of a bored sigh fills the room; it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with himself in the meantime. He carefully removes the headphones from over his ears and places them on top of the mixing board, offering an empty smile to acknowledge the man-child entering the room as he finds his feet and removes himself from behind the soundboard. He exchanges the common pleasantries with the other, older boy and even asks him how his break had went, though he doesn’t bother listening to the response as he pulls his jacket off of the back of the chair; he doesn’t care about what the boy has done or hasn’t done, he’s more preoccupied with what he will be doing with the rest of his evening. He tosses his jacket over one of his shoulders as the boy drones on and on about his family in the background and he pats himself down, checks his pockets to ensure that he has all of his belongings as he hears “The Don” (self-labelled, of course) of college radio finally beginning his liveshow.

He doesn’t stick around for long and, if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to as Andres’ show typically annoys him so he heads out of the building, pulling his phone out of his back pocket as he distractedly navigates through the halls. He checks the time as it flashes on the display of the lock screen and frowns as he finds it to only be 20:06, far too early for him to be ending his Friday night, and he slides his finger over the glass to unlock it. He quickly checks his social media accounts, finding Facebook to be stupidly dead but, he knows that, even if there were people on it, talking to his estranged family members is one of the last things he wants to be doing with his Friday evening. (I should definitely socialize more), he thinks before he feels his heart rate increase and his palms sweating at the mere thought of socializing. (Or not. Oh well, I tried).

He runs into the glass doors that lead into and out of the building, cursing the doors’ existence as he rubs at the now sore bridge of his nose; he feels his blood rushing to the point of impact and he checks below his nostrils for any kind moisture. (No blood, no worries). He glares at the door for a moment as he pulls it open but apologizes immediately as he soon feels the harsh winter air creeping beneath his clothes, nipping at his flesh. (Motherfucker. Door, I’m so sorry for lying to you. I fucking love you, please take me back. Let me back in for the love of God). He pulls his hood over his head and shoves his zipper higher up until he feels the metal pressing against the bottom of his chin. He chuckles viciously as he sees students in states of lesser dress scurrying about the white campus and starts making his way towards the dorm buildings, burying his nose within his phone as he finds the colourless world in front of him to be somewhat depressing.

He taps his finger against the ‘Contacts’ icon and starts to scroll through the long list of names (family, family, fake ass…) deleting a few of the names as he finds them (family, wait… he still owes me fifty bucks) and texting a couple as he remembers debts owed and finds texts he had never responded to. He finally stops within his tracks, knits his brows together as he stumbles across a strange name on the list. (Who the fuck is Cachai? I’ll just shoot him a text… Wait. How do I do that without letting him know that I have no idea it’s him? Am I supposed to know it’s him? Is it an inside joke we have or…? Is it a him? Shit. Fuck you, Cachai. Fuck you. What are you?) He is still cursing the mysterious Cachai within his mind when a gust of wind sends the chill of the air creeping into his jacket once again; he mumbles a string of curses directed at himself and his fucked up priorities and he shoves his phone into his back pocket. (Building equals warmth, outside equals death. Building: Warmth. Outside: Death).

He looks up and releases a sigh of relief as he sees his dorm building only a hundred feet away and he jogs towards it, huffing and puffing under the weight of his thick jacket until he finally finds the doors and throws himself inside, quite literally; he collapses in a heap of ninety-eight percent cold weather clothing and two percent human within the building’s entryway and he forgets his dignity as he bonds with the filthy tile. He sees his RA, he sees Iker, shaking his head at him with a look that he reads as disappointment, sees the judgmental look within the Senior’s eyes but he’s still too cold in some places and still too out of breath to even pretend to give a shit about the RA’s criticisms. (Iker supports Real Madrid anyway), he reminds himself from his place on the floor, (so his judgement is never to be trusted under any circumstances as it is so… Fuck you, Iker. Yeah. Fuck you).

After a few moments pass and after he feels he has properly thawed, he picks himself up from off of the floor and dusts off whatever dignity he has left, and slowly makes his way towards his dorm. He stares at the door for a few moments before he presses his forehead against it, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he releases an irritated sigh. He knows that the room will still be empty, vacant and void of anything other than his belongings; he expects for Neymar to be back by the following week but he silently hopes that his roommate will return from his trip back home, back from Brasil sooner.

He unlocks his phone as he thinks to text the Sophomore but stops himself when he realizes that he had forgotten to lock his phone before shoving it into his pocket and, as a result, had opened a contact card with his ass before his phone had shut its own display off. “Hey Leo! Are you alright?” someone calls out from over his shoulder and he waves off the voice nonchalantly and double taps the ‘SMS’ icon beside the name.

> He draws his eyebrows together as the banging on the door grows louder and he quickly glances around his dorm, trying to figure out why the hell his roommate hadn’t responded to the incessant noise as it was probably for him anyway. “Fucking Neymar,” he mumbles under his breath just before he shouts his plea for more time through the door: “Okay, asshole! I know you’re there! Just, just give me a fucking minute!” He shakes his head and jogs the rest of the way to the door, grabbing at the handle and pulling down on the brass as soon as he reaches it. His frustration slides off of him like a size ten ring on a size five finger as soon as he finds the two masked men in hall and a smile quickly takes hold of his features. He looks down the hallway and the gawking passersby are the only indicators he needs to assure himself that: no, he does not need to ask Neymar about the brownies he definitely did not take from the fridge and no, he was not hallucinating.
> 
> “What the fuck, Gerard,” he chuckles out as he finds his neighbor’s sapphire blues within a hazmat mask, “are you high or something?” (Am I high?) He throws his gaze to the man standing beside him and his laughter intensifies because “What the…? What the…?” Leo chokes out as the mysterious man joins him in laughter, the sounds seeming to echo within the mask as the other’s stomach muscles contract and expand, contract and expand, “What the fuck is this?”
> 
> Gerard joins the other two boys in laughing and shoves his mask up on his face because he feels as if he’s being fogged out by his own breath and, did his sandwich have onions in it...? “This is a Cris,” he works out eventually as he nudges the other man in the ribs just before throwing an arm over his shoulder, thoughtlessly informing Leo that the “boy” is a Senior. He wants to ask Cris if he had put onions in his sandwich because the other man knows what onions do to his stomach and if he did… He glances at Leo and decides that there are better times for those questions, he just hopes that those times come before he finds himself on the toilet. He distractedly reaches out and starts rubbing the beak of the other man’s Cardinals mask while turning his attentions back on Leo. “I can promise you that he’s doing you a favour by wearing this mask.”
> 
> Leo sees the bird head nodding in agreement and he can’t help but deepen his laugh at the “whatever” that is unfolding in front of him. “While I believe you have a nice pecker, Cris,” Leo manages to say as the grin on his face grows wider, his cheeks made numb by it, “I really wish Geri wouldn’t stroke it so much while you two are in public.” He reaches out and flicks the beak of the mask as Gerard seems to shove the other boy, Cris, to the side as if he had suddenly found him to be contagious. He’s laughing so hard that he’s managing to convince himself that, with the number of calories he’s burned within that exchange alone, he can go to bed and write this off as his workout for the day. Socializing and working out; two birds, one stone.
> 
> “Thanks,” Cristiano manages to choke out between his gasps for air and his needs to release the carbon dioxide from his body, raising the mask just high enough to wink at the smaller man in the door frame in front of him above a toothy grin.

He had ran into Cristiano one other time after their initial meeting; he had been eating his lunch with Neymar when he had noticed Cristiano on the other side of the common area. The other had acknowledged him with a point that had said “Hey there. I recognize you” though the look on his face had told the younger guy that he was trying to remember where from. “I admired your pecker” became their call sign when the dark haired boy drew close enough to hear and Leo had never seen Neymar look so scandalized in the time that he had known the Brasilian. A laugh and Leo soon found himself looking into the eyes of the other through his own sunglasses while he tried to remember the whoever that the older boy looked like.

He doesn’t remember exchanging numbers with Cris... but he sees their text history, sees where he had invited the other over for a movie before the end of the last semester and sees where the other had responded. Cristiano had been sick at the time and, like almost every other student on the planet who challenged themselves, was being crushed by finals week so his attempts had fallen flat.

He’s trying to decide whether he should text the other boy or not when the sounds of chatter echoing off of the corridors reminds him that he’s still outside of his dorm, so he finally turns the handle and stumbles into the room. He keeps his shoes on as he walks through the dorm room, tracking snow along the floor while he gradually sheds his outerwear as the warmth they had once provided him becomes too much in the heated living space; his fingers finding letters behind a sleek surface all the while, the letters forming words until the words come together to form a thought, and his finger brushes gently against send.

He tosses his phone on the bed and sighs as he glares at the two of his suitcases that are still filled with clothing from his trip back home to Argentina; he hates unpacking, the mere thought exhausts him, and he’s sure he could get away with wearing what clothes he had initially left behind if he rotates them with his class schedule properly. He doesn’t get the chance to think on the matter much further as his phone begins vibrating on the bed and he sees Cris’ “Sure. Why not?” from where he stands. He already hears the other boy at his door which comes as no surprise as he’s fairly confident that Cris had been hanging out with Geri and…  

(Did he just walk in here?) He smiles as he hears the door closing and a shouted “Leo! I’m here to save you! You’re welcome! Don’t worry, you’ll find a way to repay me for my heroism!” coming from the entryway and, eventually, the kitchen. “Leo, put your jacket back on! We need to grab some kind of food because this is unacceptable!”

He laughs as he grabs a sweater from off of the bed and eyes the two packed suitcases (at least I tried) and makes his way into the kitchen, picking up and redressing in his trail of outerwear in the process. He sees some snow still clinging to Cristiano’s jacket and knows the the other boy couldn’t have been at Geri’s for long, certainly not if he was hungry because Gerard always had some kind of food stashed in some weird places. “What did you have in mind?”

* * *

Leo is certain he has cheese in an odd place on his face and he wonders how Cris manages to stay somewhat clean while eating from their shared basket of ~~cheesy fries~~ cheese with curled strands of potato mixed into it. “Holy shit,” Leo chuckles out as he feels cheese falling onto and sticking against his nose but he focuses on licking at the corners of his lips before addressing his yellow nose, “eating this kind of stuff makes me feel like a child again.” He hears the other say something about the two of them still being children, despite the fact that Cristiano’s identified himself as being twenty-two, and he smiles as the other boy takes their shared cup of ginger ale from between them and swallows a large portion of it.

He starts talking about his radio show and Cris teases him for listening to particular artists to which Leo simply shrugs and suddenly, they’re walking back to the dorms, shoulders touching because the cold bites at his exposed flesh and (Cris would be a great human shield). He is ducking from the harsh winter winds beside the much taller man and he notes that Cris doesn’t seem to mind, or even notice for that matter, that he is being used as a barrier to fight the cold; he’s nonchalantly finishing the cup of ginger ale and starts looking for a blue bin as soon as he empties it, sighing in defeat as he starts to shake his head. Leo hears the older boy mumbling something about the campus needing more recycling areas and he chuckles as the groans of discontent promptly remind him of Cris’ major. (Tree hugger).

* * *

He’s still taking off his jacket when Cris makes his way over to his movies and he smiles as he sees how seriously Cristiano seems to be taking the selection process and, in all honesty, he should take it pretty seriously because (I’ll judge you based on your choice). He tosses his jacket over the top of the two still-packed suitcases and turns around to find Cristiano tilting his head curiously, reaching forward to pluck a movie out from the selection. He doesn’t say much, he just holds it up and asks Leo if he’s gay.

...and within a matter of seconds, the tables turn and Leo is suddenly feeling judged, though the tone of Cristiano’s voice had been far from judgemental. He knows it isn’t being said critically as it sounds to be a genuine inquiry that requires a genuine response, and he knows that the other boy has an interest in the answer, a subtle interest but a present one… It just throws him off as Cristiano has managed to ask him of his sexual orientation in the same manner that one would typically ask another if they liked pickles. He is completely caught off guard and he feels his cheeks flush to a crimson red as Cristiano seems to bury his nose into the back of the movie’s case, mumbling the summary beneath his breath as he studies actor and actress names and examines the contents therein with the intensity of an English professor.

Leo uses that to his advantage and, by the time Cristiano finally looks up, has already stuffed his face chock full of staled potato chips from the day before; Cristiano simply waves him off as if to say “it doesn’t matter” and opens the movie’s case. It isn’t that Leo is gay and ashamed nor is it that he’s not gay and offended by the question, because why would he be offended… He just isn’t sure that he and Cris have reached the point where they can comfortably talk about their sexual orientations and, eventually, their preferences.

Cristiano doesn’t seem to be thinking much of the question because he’s suddenly popping the movie into the DVD player and Leo wonders if this is Cris’ way of showing him that he doesn’t care about what music, what movies, or what sexual partners he prefers but, at the same time, it’s just a movie and Leo knows he’s over analyzing the situation. He can’t think about it further because the lights are suddenly off and... “The goddamn French subtitles are on,” Leo sighs out frustratedly as he starts fidgeting with the remote instantly in a failing attempt to turn them off.

“What do you have against the French?” Cristiano asks in a faux scandalized tone as he climbs into the bed and sits beside the smaller man, turning his body a bit towards Leo’s as he exchanges amused smiles with the other. “Je parle français,” he laughs out as he feels Leo shoving him playfully in the shoulder.

“You’re so full of shit,” Leo laughs out as he remembers that Gerard’s girlfriend was learning French and that she often left her study books lying around Gerard’s dorm. He turns his attentions back on removing the subtitles but Cristiano pries the remote from within his hands in a matter of seconds and tosses it to the other side of the room; Leo smiles as it slides down the wall and behind the two still-packed suitcases. “French subtitles it is.”

* * *

He doesn’t know how it happens: in one minute he feels Cristiano’s eyes burning into him so he turns to find them and, in that moment, they lock eyes and, he searches but, he can’t find it within himself to look away. He tells himself that he doesn’t feel anything when he’s looking into those eyes ....but he tells himself that he feels a lot of things when he feels nothing in the same way that he tells himself that he feels a lot of nothings when he feels a lot of somethings. He knows he isn’t to be trusted when it comes to his feelings. He soon feels hands cupping his cheeks and, he’s not sure but he feels as if he’s being pulled in, in more ways than one until suddenly, suddenly he feels the warmth of Cristiano’s breath over his lips, feels the velvety soft of Cristiano’s lips over his. It consumes him because it’s obvious Cristiano knows what he’s doing, knows when to brush his tongue against Leo’s bottom lip and all Leo could think of was… (Oh fuck. Are my eyes supposed to be closed?)

Cristiano is pulling away and Leo starts to think the worst (I’m a bad kisser. I fucking knew it) as he loses the lips of the other man; Cristiano doesn’t go far though as Leo can still feel his breath against his skin when he speaks. “Do you want to continue… this?” he whispers as Leo sees him searching for his eyes and Leo smiles as he allows for them to be found by the other. “Yay or neigh?” and it’s so corny and so queer that it’s absolutely perfect and Leo can feel the breaths of his chuckles bouncing off of the flesh of the other man. He thinks he mutters a “yay” but he isn’t sure, Cristiano seems to understand it though because their lips meet for the second time.

He closes his eyes this time and falls into the feelings of the moment: he feels as if the other man is reaching into him and is slowly stealing his breath away with the second kiss, breathing him in as any and all of the reservations and the doubts, the initial hesitancies of the first kiss fall to the wayside. He feels his bottom lip inside of the other man’s mouth and he feels Cristiano sucking light, gentle bruises into the flesh of it, fingers threading curiously through locks of hair. He feels a hand sliding down, down, down from the top of his head and over the nape of his neck and Cristiano seems to shift his head as… His eyes shoot open as he feels his tongue being gently sucked into the wet, hot heat of the other man’s mouth and (is it supposed to have that effect on my…?) but the thought is abandoned as he continues to lose himself within the moment, eyes closing again as he falls within the feeling of the inside of Cristiano’s mouth wrapping around his tongue.

He’s not sure of how or of when they had shifted around, he's not sure of a lot things within the moment, but he feels his back pressing up against the soft of his mattress, Cristiano’s body just beside his but turned at enough of an angle to comfortably catch his lips and his tongue within his own. He can feel the hand at the nape of his neck on the move again, sliding down, down... (Too far down). Leo breaks the kiss and reaches down to stop Cristiano’s wandering hand. “I don’t think I’m… I mean I’m not…” but he doesn’t have to finish because Cristiano is already smiling sweetly and nodding his head with a sense of understanding, hand returning to his cheek, lips returning to his lips for a few more moments of… whatever they were doing.

* * *

Leo agrees with everything Cristiano is saying. He actually smiles when he says that he’s not looking for a relationship right now either, that he’s not looking to start something serious, and that it would probably be better for both of them to keep things at a casual, platonic-sexual level. So he bumps fists with the other man just before he sees Cristiano out and he certainly doesn’t fall against the door with a sigh as it closes behind the older man. He certainly doesn’t bother with the thoughts of the moments after the kissing: a moment when he had rested his head against the older man’s shoulder, a moment when he had felt Cristiano’s cheek pressing up against the top of his head in which everything just was... and he’s certainly not looking forward to the next time they see each other again but he's not necessarily dreading it. (I'm indifferent). He's indifferent. (I don't care). He doesn't care. (We're just friends). They're just friends and he's not going to react any differently when he calls or when he… 

Leo’s heart skips a bit as his phone’s screen flashes with a message:

> Cris: Juno was one of my favourite movies when it came out. My brother said I was gay for liking it. He wasn’t totally wrong. Only mostly.

No, his heart didn’t do anything. He feels nothing for Cristiano... but he tells himself that he feels a lot of things when he doesn’t and he tells himself that he feels a lot of nothings when he feels a lot of somethings. He knows he isn’t to be trusted when it comes to his feelings... 

(No). No. (We're just friends). They're just friends. 


End file.
